


A Favor for Mad Sweeney

by MrsSaxon



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: A Prayer for Mad Sweeney, A TEAR FOR MAD SWEENEY, Gen, Mr. Ibis is also the implied narrator here fyi, Read if episode 7 WRECKT UR SHIT, Sad feelings, UNEXPECTED FEELINGS ABOUT MAD SWEENEY, implied Anubis/Mr. Ibis, implied Mad Sweeney/Essie MacGowan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 20:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSaxon/pseuds/MrsSaxon
Summary: There are some things you just can't do without asking permission. Collecting the dead is one of them.





	A Favor for Mad Sweeney

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, real quick I've only seen the show, haven't read the book, so if I've made any canonical errors, I am sorry! Feel free to enlighten me.

The small undertaker’s shop in East London, where they currently made their residence, at times seemed to brush away into the ancient sand and marble of some long-forgotten temple in a distant, sweltering land. Such times as when Mr. Jacquel was entertaining company. Such times as now.

“Out of the question,” murmured the master of the house, floating past in black linen robes, down a hallway that ought not to have existed.

“But she’s _mine_ , she believes in _me!_ Just let me bring her to you, then you can do the rest,” came the outrageous roar of a large, red-haired man, stomping after him down the corridor. While the red-haired man seemed out of place in the sun-drenched temple, he was just as out of place on the 18 th century cobblestone outside.

The God in black stopped, turning back to his guest. “Do you think others have not come before you, pleading with me for special favors? Do you think you are the only one who grieves for his people? The answer is no.”

The Irishman older than Ireland spread his arms. “Let me make a deal with ya! I’m good at deals, I can give you anything you want.”

Anubis snorted. “You? What could a leprechaun possibly offer me?”

Now the red-haired guest finally had an opening. He grinned. “I know gold and jewels are nothing to a god of death, true enough. But I’ve more to offer than just my wares.”

And that _was_ intriguing. Anubis stopped and considered the desperate Irishman. “Prove it.”

“I’ll be your servant,” Mad Sweeney piped up, “your messenger, your errand boy, I’ll go anywhere you like, see anyone you need me to see, quick as you like.”

Anubis rolled his eyes. “I’ve no need of servants.” He began to turn away, losing interest.

“You’re a man who likes to do his own dirty work, I understand, I understand,” he recovered hurriedly, “But think about it: there are people in this world even you don’t like to do business with. Consider me a… luxury, a perk. A way to minimize unpleasantness.”

Anubis frowned. “Dealing with you is already unpleasant.”

“Then the sooner you say yes, the sooner you never have to see my ugly mug again!” Mad Sweeney beamed. “Just…” he took a deep breath and when he spoke again, his voice dropped low and soft as a feather, “Let me take her. I beg you.” He swallowed, dropping his eyes in humility, “She brought me to America, she… made me what I am. Please.”

The old God, in some ways the oldest, paused. “She brought you across the water?”

“Yes,” Mad Sweeney groaned, out of breath.

“On the power of her belief, you left your homeland to start anew?”

The Irishman swallowed. “I did.”

“You are a dangerous man, Mad Sweeney,” Anubis pronounced carefully.

“That I am, sir. That I am.” He nodded, standing up straight, at full height even taller than Anubis.

Anubis considered the score. After all, similar exceptions had been made in the past. He would not tell the leprechaun this.

“As a courtesy for her dedication to you, I will allow you to escort her to me. This is not a favor I give to you, Mad Sweeney, but to her. Is that understood?” Anubis’ judgment fell heavy from his lips even as he lifted his eyebrow to the frenzied God.

“Perfectly! Crystal!” Mad Sweeney nodded vigorously, unsuccessfully trying to hide his victorious smile.

“Very well, and _Buile Shuibhne?_ ” Anubis called him back as the luck God made to stride out of the temple. Wincing, the guest did turn back.

“This is a one-time deal. You will _not_ be asking me for this again.” And for a moment, the sunlight in the temple faded; the dark shadows of the pillars and walls reached out to Mad Sweeney, the longest and darkest of all was headed like a jackal, its mouth opening around Mad Sweeney’s feet.

“I thank you for the favor, Anubis,” the red-haired man said, bowing his head, “I will honor our contract.”

The shadows retreated and the sunlight warmed the temple once more. “See that you do. I look forward to her delivery.”

“It’ll be nice… to see her again,” Mad Sweeney muttered before his next step fell on the hardwood floor of the undertaker’s shop. Then, in a gust, he was out the door, on his way to America.


End file.
